I started smoking in the early 70's while working at Clark Gas station. Something to fill the time between the cars, or that is what I told myself. And pumping gas and lit cigarettes just made sense. I was young and free and in college, and even at the beginning my body slowed down a bit. My first quit was about 5 years later, and lasted a month.
I did not like the taste. I did not like the cost. I did not like the time it took away from other things I enjoyed.
I did not like, most of all, that it controlled me. It decided I NEEDED a smoke, so get up and go to the store. Or get dirty looks from friends as I leave to light up.
Quitting was always a goal, because I was not trying to get rid of a friend, I was trying to break free. And as I went crawling back to cigarettes, after failing to quit, I hated them even more.
But I will not crawl back to you this time! You are out of my life. I curse you!
Good bye, evil one!